


It's an ill wind that blows no good (hair days)

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Related, Fluff, Hair care, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Semi-Crack, episode 174 spoilers, fashion - Freeform, idioms, this episode soothed all my anxieties so y'all get a one hundred percent fluffy fic for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 174!!!A discussion of fashion in the apocalypse, with a sidenote regarding porcine aeronautics.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 38
Kudos: 174





	It's an ill wind that blows no good (hair days)

"God, this wind is awful."

He glanced over. Martin was holding one hand up in front of his eyes, squinting into the gale they were walking into. Jon laughed as a gust caught at his hair, blowing it in front of his face. "You're telling me," he said, reaching up to gingerly extract a few long strands from his mouth.

"Hm?" Martin turned toward him. His eyes widened. "Oh- oh, god, it's getting your hair all over the place!" He lifted his hands slightly, hovering them vaguely in the air between them as though unsure how to help. "Do you- do you want to tie it back or something?"

Jon laughed again. Martin looked terribly worried, and Jon found it terribly endearing. "No," he said, aiming for soothing and landing near fond, "it's not really bothering me."

"Are you- are you sure?" Martin bit his lip, eyebrows furrowing. "It's going to get all tangled and it'll take  _ ages  _ to sort out the knots-"

"Actually..." Jon dragged his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face and demonstrating how decidedly  _ not  _ tangled it was. "Not really. Benefits of being an Avatar, I suppose." Another guest blew the hair right back into his face. He puffed out a sharp breath, trying to blow it back again.

"That looks  _ really  _ uncomfortable," Martin said.

Jon shrugged. "I'm used to it. It's just one of the hazards of long hair."

"Yeah, that's why I keep mine short," Martin muttered. "I just-" he cut himself off, huffing.

"Martin?" Jon raised an eyebrow at him. Martin looked... fairly agitated.

He sighed, seeming to concede a point in whatever mental war he was having with himself. "Just...  _ please  _ tie it back, Jon? For my sake?"

"I... suppose? If it means that much to you?" The eyebrow crept farther up his face, but Jon didn't question further. Yet. "Do you have a hair tie?"

"Y-yeah, let me just- here." Martin fumbled in one of his pockets, eventually letting out a triumphant sound and holding out a small elastic to Jon. Jon hesitated before taking it.

"Actually... could you braid it for me?" Jon knew how to braid his own hair, of course. That wasn't the point.

"Oh!" Martin flushed slightly. "Of course, Jon. Always." His voice went soft on the last word.

Jon smiled, and turned around so Martin could reach his hair. He tilted his head back at the first gentle sweep of Martin's fingers across his shoulders, allowing him more space to gather all the wayward strands without getting them caught in his collar or on the straps of his bag.

Martin was careful - always, always careful - to not tug too hard at Jon's hair as he worked, and Jon allowed his eyes to slip closed for the first time in far too long as he enjoyed the feeling of his boyfriend's fingers running through his hair.

"I've missed this," he said quietly, smiling at Martin's soft curse as a chunk of hair escaped his grip and started flapping in the wind again.

"Me- me too," Martin said, airy and distracted as he brought the rebellious lock back into order. Jon could practically feel his frown as he worked out the logistics of separating Jon's hair into sections and still maintaining his hold on it, and he heard the small sigh as Martin resigned himself to a simple, three-strand braid. He'd attempted much more complicated creations back in the cabin, but that would have been slightly more difficult with gale-force winds blowing around them.

Martin began parting his hair, carefully holding onto each of the sections as he separated them out. Jon held very still, not keen to distract him at such a crucial moment in the process.

When the gentle, tugging rhythm of braid-formation began in ernest, Jon felt it safe to talk again.

"Out of curiosity, why were you so insistent about this?" he asked.

Martin's fingers faltered slightly. "Insistent about what?" he said, voice pitched carefully innocent.

"About me tying my hair back. Why'd it bother you that I had it loose?"

"I-" Martin huffed, staying silent for a moment as he put a few more inches onto the braid. Then he said: "I'm not- I'm not really sure, okay?" He sounded defensive. "It just- it  _ bugs  _ me. I know it's ridiculous, but whenever I see someone's hair blowing around like that, it looks- it looks  _ so  _ uncomfortable, and I know it'll be tangled so much, and it gets in your eyes and in your mouth and-" he cut off his own rant, huffing again. "And I know, I  _ know, _ you said you don't mind, it doesn't tangle, you don't need eyes to see, blah blah blah." The pressure on the back of Jon's head shifted as Martin freed one hand to wave around expressively. "Doesn't stop it bugging me. And  _ you, _ I can ask to do something about it, which I can't really do with strangers on the street."

Both hands returned to Jon's hair. Jon raised his eyebrows, nodding slightly in the small space he had free to move his head. "I can't say I get it, but if it truly does bother you, I'm happy to keep my hair tied back."

"Thank you," Martin said. He sounded embarrassed. "At least while we're in this wind."

"Sure."

They felt silent again, and Martin finished the braid shortly after. He twisted the hair band securely around the bottom of it, patting Jon twice on the shoulder when he was done.

"There," he said, stepping back.

Jon didn't move. "All set?"

"Yep, you're good."

Jon smiled, turning to face him and raising one hand to the back of his head to feel the braid. "Thank you," he said, sincerely, and then because he couldn't resist: "You have some really weird neuroses, you know?"

Martin rolled his eyes. "Shut up. So do you." His tone was light and teasing. Jon grinned.

"Oh, trust me, I know."

Martin smiled back at him, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Now that you're not a walking hair disaster, shall we press on?"

"If you're ready."

Martin nodded, and Jon turned to lead the way.

They'd only gone a few steps before a thought occurred to him. "Helen must drive you crazy, huh?"

Martin gave an exaggerated shudder. "It's a travesty. She'll never get all the knots out of it."

Jon hummed, considering. "Is it knots? Or is it just, well- spirals? It does seem to...  _ move,  _ occasionally."

"Well, it  _ looks  _ a travesty, even if it's not actually tangled."

Jon nodded. "She's certainly leaning hard into that 'artfully disheveled' look."

Martin nodded vigorously, then paused, tilting his head to the side. "Hey, you would know. Does becoming an Avatar automatically turn you into a fashion disaster, or was everyone just hopeless heading into it?"

Jon laughed, sudden and bright - he couldn't help it. "Sorry,  _ what?" _

"Well, we've got  _ you," _ Martin ticked it off on his fingers as he spoke, eyebrows raised in concentration. "Who used to be all prim and proper with your sweater vests and ties and now you're just wandering around in secondhand t-shirts and whatever pair of trousers you can find that vaguely fits-"

"Hey, there are extenuating circumstances-" Jon began, but Martin spoke over him.

"There's Helen, who if I remember correctly first came into the Archives with a rather stylish pantsuit and now looks like she was dragged backward through a neon paint factory; Melanie, who went from height-of-fashion-YouTuber to leather-jacket-over-sweatpants while she had that bullet in her leg and reverted once it was out; Daisy, who used to just wear a uniform all the time and, as soon as she was free, started wearing just really comfortable and well-fitted sweaters and jeans, it was a good look for her-"

Jon watched him, mildly amazed as Martin went through the list of their friends. He... honestly hadn't noticed  _ any  _ of the wardrobe changes Martin was talking about. He'd barely even noticed his own.

"And then we get the other Avatars! Honestly, we haven't seen a  _ single  _ one here who had good taste. Callum Brodie I can forgive, no thirteen-year-old has a good fashion sense, but Jude Perry? Still stuck in the eighties, from everything you'd said about her I expected her to be a lot more current than that. I don't even know where to begin with that Sasha thing,  _ god, _ the clown makeup... and even Jared Hopworth! You're gardening, it shouldn't be possible to be unfashionable doing that, and yet somehow...." he trailed off, shaking his head in disappointment. "Not to mention Simon."

Jon sniggered. "What, not a fan of capes?"

Martin shook his head, eyes wide. "I mean, on the one hand I get it, he's zooming around like Superman, the cape fits the aesthetic," he said. "But on the other... I mean,  _ really? _ A  _ cape?" _

"Apparently so," Jon said. "What was he wearing when he threatened to throw you off a rollercoaster?"

"Just a suit." Martin shrugged. "He looked pretty normal."

"Ah, so he's dressing for the occasion, then."

"I suppose so." Martin snorted. "Oh, god. If all the Avatars are amping things up now, how much you want to bet Elias - Jonah, whatever - is in full-on Victorian aristocrat getup, like in all those portraits around the Institute?"

Jon considered this for a moment. "No," he said, eventually. "After ending the world, bringing about the apocalypse and all that... I bet he's dressed like a warlock."

Martin burst out laughing, and Jon grinned at him.

"What, pointy hat and all?" Martin said, puffing the words out between breaths of laughter.

"Oh yes," Jon said, dead serious. "He probably has a staff of power to wave threateningly at anyone who dares disturb him."

"Oh, how terrifying," Martin said, fighting to get his breath back. "I'm quaking in my boots."

"And very stylish boots they are, too," Jon said, and Martin flapped a hand at him, shaking his head.

"Shut up, I'm as much a fashion disaster as anyone else at this point." He gestured up and down his own body, indicating the dirt-covered and torn state of the clothes he was in. "My only advantage is that at least I  _ know  _ it."

"Like I said, extenuating circumstances." Jon smiled at him. "I must say, though, I didn't pin you as quite so fashion-conscious."

Martin rolled his eyes. "You've commented on my 'retro aesthetic' often enough, surely you've realized I pay attention."

"Yeah, to your  _ own  _ appearance. I didn't realize you were so aware of everyone else's."

Martin shrugged. "If you want to build your own look, you've got to pay attention to what the people around you are wearing. See what your options are, what you like and don't like. Then you mix up all the pieces you do like and form your own style from them."

"Huh." Jon frowned, considering that. "You know, I think I did the same thing. Except the 'people around me' were basically just my grandmother and her friends, so..."

Martin's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, that explains a lot."

"Shut up," Jon said, without any heat behind it, and Martin snorted.

"Good thing for you," he said, leaning into Jon's shoulder as they walked, "I happen to like that 'old lady librarian' look you've got going on."

"I figured, given how much time you spend staring at me."

"Says the Avatar of watching."

"Point taken," Jon said, and Martin snorted again.

"Maybe you should try spicing things up to fit the times," he said. "Stick a couple googly eyes to your forehead, start a new trend?"

"I'm sure it'll catch on like wildfire," Jon deadpanned, glancing at Martin out of the corner of his eyes. Martin's lips were pursed, fighting back a grin.

"Jonathan Sim, trendsetter," he said, losing the battle. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Well, the world did  _ actually  _ have to end for it to happen," Jon pointed out.

"True," Martin said. Then: "Oh, hey, wait, Jon! Are pigs flying? That'd be here, right, that'd be the Vast?"

"I..." Jon Looked. Jon Saw. "Yes, actually. And back in the Desolation, if you count 'getting caught in a tornado' to be flying."

Martin's eyebrows rose. "Close enough. That's pretty cool."

"Unless you're a pig."

"Well, yeah." Martin tilted his head to the side. "Okay, you've caught my interest. I have more questions, if you're up for answering them."

"Might as well," Jon shrugged. "We've got rather a lot of time to kill before we leave the Vast. Just- nothing too serious?"

"Oh, trust me, it's not," Martin chuckled. "So... have two Sundays come together?"

Jon's turn to laugh, as he recognized the old idiom. "No, given that time no longer exists and days themselves are meaningless."

"Okay," Martin nodded thoughtfully. "Have we reached the reign of Queen Dick?"

"Not unless you're setting out to insult Elias."

Martin laughed. "It would be a worthy goal."

"Quite." Jon tilted his head at him. "How many of these do you have?"

"Oh, loads," Martin said. "I used to have a dictionary of idioms for writing poetry. You'd be surprised how many different ways people have come up with saying 'never'."

"There are rather a lot of them."

Martin glanced at him. "Is that a good thing or do you want to stop?"

"Keep going, by all means." Jon waved a hand at him, encouraging. "It's a nice way to break the monotony.

"Cool." Martin smiled at him. "Okay, then, so... has hell frozen over?"

**Author's Note:**

> Idioms referenced:
> 
> _When pigs fly_   
>  _When two Sundays come together_   
>  _In the reign of Queen Dick_   
>  _When hell freezes over_
> 
> All of them are used to mean, essentially, "this won't happen until an impossible event occurs."


End file.
